More Than Anyone
by TheGryfter
Summary: 3 years from now, Santana Lopez tells us the story of her life after leaving McKinley. A story of heartbreaks and friends and disappointments, and a love she never saw coming.
1. The Walking Away

A/N: So, I didn't even know it was Pezberry Week here on FF til after I wrote this, but that's providence for you. It was a weird fic, because I watching Shriya Saran's The Other End of the Line when it just dropped into my head, along with the song at the end. Even though the fic is nothing like that movie. But it's a new pairing I got to play, and I was writing from Santana's POV for the first time, which is always fun.

Anyway, let me know what you think, as always. Reviews are love, and I'd like to know if it works.

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**MORE THAN ANYONE**

**1. The Walking Away. **

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They say life is just a series of snapshots. Random moments pretending to be a whole. But that's just it… its all pretend.

I'm Santana Lopez, and this is the story of how I pretended for far too long.

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It started with Brittany.

First love… well, there's nothing that compares to it. It's a giddy rush. Its that feeling you get when you swallow a bunch of pop-rocks and they fizz in your tummy, and it's like that all the time.

Brittany made me.

Being with her made me a better person. Yeah, yeah, I know everyone says that – and people who know me will probably point to the fact that I haven't shaken the habit of calling stupid people dyslexic babies who've been hit over the head one too many times, and say that I'm not a nice person. But that's the thing. If you had an attention span greater than a goldfish in a bottle of Johnnie Walker, you'll recall that I didn't say she turned me into a nice person. She turned me into a better one.

Believe it or not, I was even bitchier than this, once upon a time.

It was that inner bitch – lurking inside me with a hatchet and a hit list – that I channeled the night I left Ohio forever.

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"_But I don't understand, after everything we planned…"_

"_You call this planning? Brit, to you a plan is writing a note on the mirror in lipstick telling yourself not to write on mirrors anymore."_

"_I had to do that. Otherwise, when I wake up in the middle of the night it looks like a bleeding ghost left me a message to brush my teeth."_

"_Ghosts don't bleed."_

"_Then how come they're so pale?"_

"_You're not listening to me. I'm doing this."_

"_You're serious?"_

"_Yes."_

"_I can't follow you."_

"_I know."_

.

Silence.

Nothing but silence.

Brittany was rarely quiet for long. It was one of the things I loved about her. She had no filter. She'd just say the first thing that popped into her head. Usually, it was just something random, like how the teddy bear in that cleaning commercial was really an undercover spy for PETA. But that night, she was so quiet.

And then…

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"_You decided this a month ago."_

"_What? No, I-"_

"_Don't lie to me. People think I'm stupid – and maybe I am because I don't know why the president doesn't have a jet-pack, or how Europe managed to swim across the sea – but I see things. That night you were charging something online. You said you were buying bath salts, but you've smelt the same ever since. You were buying your plane ticket."_

"_Brit, I'm so sorry."_

"_Just go…"_

"_No, I want to explain…"_

"_Why bother? In your head we broke up a long time ago. Guess, as usual, I'm just catching up now."_

_._

So I left.

And I didn't look back, even though I wanted to.

I wanted to so bad…

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	2. The City Of

**2. The City Of…**

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Los Angeles.

Everytime I think about the city, a line always pops into my head. It's the opening from Joss Whedon's _Angel._ Yes, I watched that show. David Boreanaz is hot! I'm allowed to say that because I'm bisexual. Besides, David Boreanaz transcends sexual preferences. Just ask any straight guy, and watch how hard he tries to lie to you.

Anyway, it goes: _"Los Angeles. You see it at night, and it shines. A beacon. People are drawn to it. People… and other things…"_

I learned about the _other things _ part soon enough.

But first, there was Mercedes.

She'd been out here for a year before I showed up. She was still doing steady-work as a back-up singer. She was the vocal equivalent of a session musician. I'm not sure why, but that scared the hell out of me.

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_Have you been sending in your demos? Have you even been recording your own stuff? I mean, you don't want to sway and harmonize in the background your whole life, do you? You might as well have followed Rachel to New York."_

"_Santana, you don't understand. Do you have any idea how many wannabe stars there are out here?"_

"_How many of them have your talent?"_

"_A lot."_

"_I find that hard to believe."_

"_I'm waiting for my big break, okay? It'll happen."_

"_When?"_

"_Come on…"_

"_I'm serious? When is it gonna happen? You need to _make_ it happen. Or was Jesse right about you? Are you just lazy?'_

"_My God, you haven't changed a bit."_

"_Were you expecting me to?"_

"_Honestly? I hoped."_

"_Hey Mercedes, this is reality. Its writing you a check."_

"_Why'd you blow off New York? Why come out here?"_

"_New York's a theatre town. Its perfect for someone like Berry. But me? With my looks, and my chops…"_

"_Yeah, you know what? You're a perfect fit for the Valley porn industry."_

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That bitch!

Although, I have to admit, it was a pretty good burn.

It turns out Mercedes was right. It's a lot harder to make it in the City of Angels than romantic comedies would have us believe. I ended up taking a job at a Hooters in Santa Monica. I could just hear Coach Sylvester snarkily musing about how my boobs should file for a 401K, and ended up crashing with Puck.

He lived in a dive in Van Nuys where the roaches were the patients and they truly ran the asylum. We had to share a musty futon that folded out into the living room-slash-bedroom-slash-kitchen-slash my frikkin wrists if I develop claustrophobia.

It was fine, for a while. Puck worked so hard at his pool cleaning business – making some extra money on the side by actually _digging_ the pools themselves – that he was usually passed out by the time I got home.

On the nights he was awake, we'd sit up and watch Turner Classic Movies. Puck tried stealing cable from the apartment next door, but he screwed it up somehow, so the only channel we caught didn't show movies made before 1980.

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"_No! I'm not doing this with you again, Puck! I might actually strangle you this time!"_

"_I always knew you were stubborn, Lopez, but I never figured you for stupid."_

"_Me? You're the one who shaved all the sense out of your head when you shaved off your Mohawk! No way does Isle belong with Victor Lazlo!"_

"_The dude's the better ticket! She knows that. That's why she gets on the plane with him at the end."_

"_No, she gets on the plane because Rick makes her go."_

"_That stupid _hill o' beans_ speech? You bought that?"_

"_You didn't?"_

"_Victor's a counterfeiter. Plus, with the law all caught up in fighting the war, you know he's building up some serious bank!"_

"_He's a– Wait! What the hell are you talking about? He's not a counterfeiter."_

"_Sure he is. He fakes checks!"_

"_He's the leader of the Cheque resistance, you unbelievable moron! As in, the country!"_

"_Oh. Well, this movie just got way lamer!"_

_._

It was fun for a while. Until Puck got drunk one night and made a pass at me. I had to knee him in a place that God only ever intended to be treated nicely.

I moved out the next day.

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	3. The Soldier

**3. The Soldier. **

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Remember those other things I was talking about at the beginning of the previous chapter? Well, here's what I meant.

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The singing wasn't working out for me. I booked only one job – ironically, as a singing housewife in a teddy bear cleaning commercial – in two years. An agent friend of mine suggested I switch my focus. If singing wasn't working out, I should try acting. He said I had the _va-va-voom_ for it, but I think that's just coz he's a bit of an idiot.

So I started going on auditions.

Plays, commercials, indie-films, studio greenlights, whatever I could get.

Always the same story: _"We'll call and let you know."_ Meaning, _"No thank you, there's the door."_

Until I got my first callback. It was for a new soap called _Starlight Bay_, and it was as cheesy as it sounds. But they had a standing order for 260 episodes that first year, and I made it through two rounds, auditioning for Consuela, the sassy nurse from Starlight Bay Hospital who sleeps with the Dean of Medicine and falls pregnant inside the first 20 episodes.

After the third callback, the producer called me into his office.

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"_Good job, Lopez. You light up the screen, you really do."_

"_Thank you, sir. I had a question, if you don't mind…"_

"_Shoot."_

"_Well, the scene we read today, where Consuela finds out that Chaz is really her brother…"_

"_What about it?"_

"_I'm not sure about the way I'm supposed to react to that. Stunned, sure – here's a 6.4 blonde surfer dude and I find out we were separated at birth, but Consuela's also looking for something. Someone to fill a hole in her life. Now that she finds out about Chaz, I dunno… shouldn't I be trying to convey some of that hope? That maybe this is it. That I've found that person that fills the void?"_

"_You've got great instincts, Lopez. Go with it."_

"_Thank you."_

"_Now, take off your clothes."_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_The part's yours, if you want it. We just gotta do what I call, the wet run."_

"_Are you kidding?"_

"_Do you want the part, or not?"_

"_No! Go to hell!"_

"_Don't pretend to be so high and mighty with me, you little bitch! I see girls like you every day! You all cry to Oprah when you make it, but the truth is you like the way this business works! You're gagging for it!"_

"_Let me go! Let me go right now, or I'll scream!"_

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After the first scream, he hit me. Shut me right up.

I went down. I tasted blood in my mouth. I watched, unable to move as he unbuckled his pants. Then the door burst in.

Ten seconds later he was on the floor next to me, his nose smashed, and coughing up blood. My rescuer towered over him.

I didn't recognize him for a second. The hair was different and he seemed taller. Much taller. That inner strength he'd always had was now worn on the outside, like a suit of armour.

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"_Finn?"_

"_Are you okay?"_

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Raise your hand if you believe in coincidences.

I know. Before that day, I wouldn't have raised my hand either. I would have done my dyslexic baby speech and bitch-slapped the person asking the question.

But it was pure coincidence that Finn was there that day.

Turns out the Executive Producer of Sleaze had cast him in still-to-fail TV pilot as a homey jock who's still in high school. The sonofabitch lost track of his appointments, and his meeting with me overlapped a meeting he was supposed to be having with Finn. So, the ex-soldier was outside the door when I screamed.

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"_Why'd you leave the Army?"_

"_Why have I done anything for the past six years?"_

"_Rachel?"_

"_I got an honourable discharge after my first tour. I went to New York to find her."_

"_Did you?"_

"_She's pretty easy to find these days."_

"_I know. It's sickening. How many Tony's has she got already?"_

"_Two. But word is she'll be nominated for a Golden Globe this year."_

"_I think I just threw up a little in my mouth."_

"_I'm happy for her."_

"_I'm not."_

"_Yes, you are. You two were always closer than you let anybody believe."_

"_Hello! Did you go to the same school? Rachel and I hated each other! We were always fighting."_

"_Foreplay."_

"_Excuse me? Are we just spouting random words now? Coz… Retarded pope Thailand pig orgasms."_

"_I'm serious. Its why Rachel and I didn't work out. She bats for your team now."_

"_I don't play softball."_

"_You know what I mean."_

"_No way! Rachel Berry breaking herself off a piece of ladylove… Will wonders never cease?"_

"_See? You're smiling. I knew it."_

"_You're just indulging this fantasy because it makes you feel better about her dumping you."_

"_Damn straight! Or… _not-_straight. Whatever."_

"_Man… Mercedes said I had the look for Valley porn."_

_._

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	4. The Star

**4_. _The Star.**

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She was supposed to be a bitch. I could have handled it if she was a bitch.

Rachel moved out West and bought a house in the Hollywood Hills. That same weekend she invited all of us to dinner. Finn, Puck, Mercedes…

I couldn't make it. I'd booked a job – fill-in dancer for my friend Teri, one of the Bombshell Babies, in their standing gig at the Roxy.

Rachel tracked me down the next day. She insisted I come to her house. She wanted to cook for me.

I found another reason to back out. An excuse, really. I didn't realise it at the time – not really – but I was avoiding her. Seeing her all happy and successful in her mansion, literally looking down on the rest of us, it would have just brought my own life into stark relief.

And I couldn't handle that.

But one thing no one could ever say about Rachel Berry – she was nothing if not frikkin persistent. The Jewish dog with the kosher bone.

One day, at work, I headed over to a booth in the corner to serve a new customer, and there she was.

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"_Figured you'd find your way here. Finn says you're a lot more in favour of the hooters now."_

"_Well, that top you're wearing leaves nothing to the imagination."_

"_It brings in the tips."_

"_I'm sure. Sit down."_

"_I'm working."_

"_You can take a break."_

"_No, I can't."_

"_Why are you avoiding me?"_

"_Rachel, I'm not-"_

"_I know we weren't… close in high school, but…"_

"_It's not that. I've just been really busy."_

"_Oh, well, do you think you'll have some time this weekend? Maybe we could-"_

"_I don't think so."_

"_Santana, please…"_

"_Why are you making such a big deal about this, Miss Movie Star? Don't you have, lackeys, to hang out with? That big guy by the door scaring the customers, he's your bodyguard, isn't he?"_

"_And you think that's some kind of life? I'm miserable, Santana. I'm lonely."_

_._

She really was.

She guilted me into a coffee that first day. The coffee turned into a shopping trip. She had money now, and I was determined to fulfill my sworn duty to the goddesses of lesbianism and finally fix her wardrobe.

After that, it was dinners – mostly at her place, but she didn't have a problem slumming it in my new two-room walk-up at the ass-end of Highland.

Soon, we were spending all our free time together. I think she appreciated that I would never be like the 100 essential people that suddenly surrounded her, consulting her on business and massaging her ego.

I still called her Snouty the Jewish Dwarf, and I refused to stop.

That's how – shock and horror – Rachel Berry and I became best friends.

And then Brittany came to town.

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	5. The Ex

**5. The Ex.**

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Something had changed in my first love. There was a hardness about her that had never been there before. I was the one responsible for that – I knew that – but it didn't make it any easier to take.

She was smarter, too. Or no, that's the wrong word. More cunning.

She played me like a fiddle.

Pretended to be over my walking away. Pretending to just want a second chance. Pretending to fall back in love with me, while I fell head over heels for her all over again.

And then she dumped me.

I don't resent her for it. I don't. And if you do, then may you be given crabs by a thousand scorpions. It was no less than what I deserved.

Brittany needed her revenge, and I needed to get my heart broken.

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"_What happened?"_

"_She's gone."_

"_Come here… shh… it's gonna be okay…"_

"_How? Tell me, Rachel! How is it gonna be okay? Look at my life! I'm a wreck! A failure! I have a hundred and forty two Dollars in the bank and a Russian landlord who sleeps with a Beretta. I have a string of not-so-nice ex-lovers and now the one person who ever cared about me just spent six months plotting my frikkin downfall like we were part of some stupid teenie-drama on Fox! I have nothing! Nothing!"_

"_You're wrong."_

"_Don't. Please. Not tonight, I can't–"_

"_I mean it. You got me, Lo…"_

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Lo.

That's what she called me.

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"_Look at me. You know what's the one thing nobody tells you about Hollywood? It takes a star to recognize a star. And I see that in you."_

"_You're just saying that."_

"_I'm not. Ever since I've known you, you've owned every room you've ever been in. That bitchy take-no-crap attitude? The only reason it works is because people would rather take that, than not be around you. You look like a princess from a Disney movie, and when you sing… you make me believe that music means love."_

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That's when she kissed me for the first time.

I don't know if I can describe it, but I'll try. It was a little nervous. A little hesitant. Like opening a wrapped box you suddenly find outside your door. You never know what's inside.

But then, I fell into it. I fell into her.

She tasted like wine and cinnamon.

Her tongue lit hope inside me, and soon I was wondering why we hadn't been doing this all along.

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	6. The End

**6. The End. **

**.**

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I did it again. Oops.

Oh, shut up Britney Spears, you didn't invent the words!

I crushed her. Rachel blows through this world like a hurricane, but like every storm, nobody sees the still centre. That little part of paradise inside that's most vulnerable to the chaos surrounding it.

I saw it.

And I crushed it.

When I was just a waitress using my… assets… to make an extra twenty bucks a night, I didn't resent her success. I insisted on her buying me stuff, and she did it freely. Just like everything, she gave and gave and gave.

I moved in with her after six months. After a year, we were talking about marriage.

Then disaster struck.

I got a 4-album deal after a song I recorded in an hour and a half with Rachel's backing band in her home studio one night – after three bottles of wine and a bottle of Petron – exploded all over YouTube. The last person to hit this big was Katy Perry.

That's what the tabloids say anyway.

I think Katy wishes she had my looks.

Rachel was happier for me than anyone. She threw a huge party for my birthday a week after I signed the deal. Everyone was there. She flew Mr. Schu and the rest of the Glee Club over for the weekend.

Even Brittany. We made up. We're friends now.

I wish I could say the same about Rachel.

Again, it's my fault. Always my fault.

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"_How could you? With _him?_ With that… that creep?"_

"_It was a one-night thing! He meant nothing to me!"_

"_He meant enough for you to wreck this!"_

"_God, for once in your life would you not be so melodramatic?"_

"_Excuse me if the woman I love cheating on me brings out my dramatic side!"_

"_I'm sorry, but… don't you ever get tired?"_

"_Of what?"_

"_Of pretending. That we're this perfect couple. We show up to a different red carpet every week, and we smile for the cameras. We accept that stupid award from Ellen because we're such role models for kids out there. We pretend we're not just people. With real feelings and desires and faults and weakness."_

"_Is that all this was to you? Just pretend?"_

"_No, it was wonderful, but–"_

"_But? Okay, you know what? Just… leave."_

"_No, we're gonna talk about this."_

"_Why? What's the point? I get it now. You're capable of love, Santana. I know that. I felt that. Being with you… those late nights when you just wrapped your arms around me for no reason, I know how you felt about me. But it was also the problem."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_You're scared to love. It scares you more than anything else in this world, and you lash out. As soon as it gets real, you find a way to blow it up, because otherwise you have to deal with the fact that you deserve to be loved right back."_

"_That's not true."_

"_Yes, it is. I pray that someday you'll see that."_

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	7. The Song

**7. The Song.**

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I see it now.

She was right. God, she's always right. Being loved by her – or by Brittany – or by Puck – or by whoever, was never my problem. My problem was loving them back.

My problem was letting myself believe that I could be that special someone in another person's life.

Is it too late for me?

Is this going to work?

I don't know.

I can hear the crowd now. They're chanting my name. It's intoxicating, that sound, and I'll never get tired of it. But it seems a little hollow tonight. A little empty.

Usually, before a concert, Rachel would bring me flowers. Just before I'd step out on stage, she'd kiss me, then put her hands on either side of my face and pull me down so I was looking in her eyes – Snouty, the Jewish Dwarf, remember?

And then she'd whisper, _"You're a rockstar, Lo… Live the dream."_

She won't be doing that tonight. This is my first concert since the break-up. All the papers and magazine-shows are making a big deal of that. What am I going to be like, now that I'm not one part of the music industry's hottest couple.

I bet a few of those _entertainment reporters_ – read: bottom feeders – are out there right now. They're in the audience, and I wonder if they've raised the spots on the stage yet. Are those reporters wondering why there's only a single piano on stage? Surely one piano's going to get swallowed up in the vastness of the Hollywood Bowl. Do they even know I play?

Who cares?

I'm not singing for them tonight. I'm not even singing for my fans. I'm sorry, guys, I love you, but this one's for her… all for her… only her…

The roar hits me like a wave as I step out onto the boards. Their screams wash over me, and I feel a calm descend. I sit down, and lift my fingers to the keys. I lean close to the mic, and say, "This goes out to Rachel… because I mean every word."

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_You need a friend. _

_I'll be around. _

_Don't let this end. _

_Before I see you again. _

_What can I say to convince you,_

_To change your mind of me?_

_I'm going to love you more than anyone…_

_I'm going to hold you closer than before._

_And when I kiss your soul, your body'll be free_

_I'll be free for you anytime._

_I'm going to love you more than anyone…_

_Look in my eyes._

_What do you see?_

_Not just the colour._

_Look inside of me. _

_Tell me all you need,_

_And I will try._

_I will try…_

_I'm going to love you more than anyone…_

_I'm going to love you more than anyone…_

_._

I falter halfway through.

It's hard to see with the spotlight on me – there's a metaphor for you – but squinting into the darkness of the wings… I see her.

Like an angel waiting for me to start believing… she's there.

She's smiling at me.

I keep playing, but I can't sing anymore. She's stolen my breath away. She might as well. She stole my heart.

She's whispering something.

As I try to make it out, I realise the crowd is singing, thinking I've paused on purpose to give them a chance to lift their voices. I let them carry me for a while. Carry me back to the song.

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_And when I kiss your soul, your body'll be free_

_I'll be free for you anytime._

_I'm going to love you more than anyone…_

_I'm going to love you more than anyone…_

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Now I can make out what she's saying. Cheeky little minx!

She's saying, _"Liar… but I love you anyway."_

I wish life was a series of snapshots. I'd take this one, fold it up carefully, and carry it around close to my heart. Carry it with me, wherever I go from now on.

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The End.

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Note: The song is _More Than Anyone_ by Gavin de Graw. Find it on Youtube. It's beatiful.


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